"I do. But I'd like to see your place. And then you wouldn't have to be the one dragging your ass home. You could stay and throw me out." He gives me that smile that's been doing a lot of things to me. I mean, his smile has always done things to me, but lately it's something . . . more. More than butterflies. His smile makes my toes curl and my skin tingle and my brain slow down. Sometimes I completely forget what the hell I was saying and have to cough, or pretend that I got distracted by something else so it isn't too obvious.
Honestly, I want to say yes to literally anything he asks me when he's wearing that smile. Shit. If he told me to jump off a bridge, I'd get flutters in my belly and then do it with heart-eyes.
"I . . . I guess?" I say. Dammit, I meant to tell him no. But I don't have a good reason to not let him come over. It's not as if I have a roommate or something. That would have been convenient. I guess I could always tell him I'm a hoarder and my house is condemned or I have 20 cats that don't like strangers, but whatever. I'm tired and it would be nice not to have to drag my butt out of bed and drive home post-banging.
"You sure?" That's another thing about Rhett that's just . . . oh, it just gets to me. He's always asking me if I'm okay with everything. If I want to slow down. He gets my opinion and he values it. And when I talk, I know he's listening. Not like I don't have that relationship with my friends and with Mia's parents, but it's a whole different thing when you have that with the person you're having sex with.
"Yeah," I say. "You're still gonna have to help me cook. I'm not sure I've even got anything to make." I wasn't planning on this, and since I've been eating with Rhett so much, I've been cutting back on my own grocery buying.
"That's fine. I'll figure out something from what you've got." I'm skeptical, but I've seen his culinary skills. He should have his own show or something. Like, the Pioneer Man instead of the Pioneer Woman. The set would be a rustic log cabin and he'd wear a different shade of flannel for every show. Something tells me it would be a big hit and would spawn many cookbooks.
"Sounds fun," I say. "You're going to have to give me a head start so I can do a quick clean before you get there." Thankfully, my place isn't a total disaster since I haven't spent much time in it lately. Just to sleep and shower and then head out again. I do want to put away all of the pictures I have of my Texas life so he won't ask any questions that I don't want to answer. I don't need that during our hang and bang.
"Sure thing," he says and gives me a little wave as I try to walk and run at the same time to my car so I can get home as fast as possible.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later I'm showered, wearing a T-shirt and shorts (why get dressed fully if I'm only going to take my clothes off?), and all of my pictures are stashed in the absolute back of my closet. I think everything's good. My place looks boring and empty now, but who the fuck cares? He's not going to be focusing on the decor. And if he does, I'll just squeeze his dick and he'll focus on that instead. I always have that backup plan. Or dickup plan.
Rhett knocks and I open the door for him. It's weird being on this side of things.
"Hey," I say. His hair is still a little damp from his shower, and it's flopping over his forehead in the most attractive way. It would be so much easier to say no to him if he wasn't so damn attractive.
Bastard.
I grin and pull him in, and he picks me up. My legs automatically wrap around him as he walks us to the couch and sets me down. We've fucked nearly everywhere in his apartment, so I'm used to not being in a bed. Who needs a bed? Then you just have to wash the sheets a lot.
He lies down and pulls me on top. Another thing I managed to do was stash condoms everywhere. Like a dirty Easter egg hunt. Never know where you might need one, right? I pull one out from between the cushions and he grins up at me.
Rhett lets me roll it on and then I get on. Sometimes I think about the way our bodies move when we're stunting and how that seems to carry over to sex. Sure, we've had our awkward moments here and there, but for the most part, we just work together. Fortunately, we seem to be on the same level as far as what we like, which is another very good thing. Sometimes he pulls my hair and sometimes I dig my nails into his back and we both like that. He's also a dirty talker, which I never thought I'd enjoy, but him doing it? Makes everything so much hotter.
I brace myself on his chest and start grinding my hips on him. He tries to thrust up into me, but I'm making him wait because I'm mean that way.